


5 Terrible Things for Jim Kirk's Health (and 1 Very Very Good Thing)

by thelma_throwaway



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Partying, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelma_throwaway/pseuds/thelma_throwaway
Summary: "Quick, Jim. Tell me what it was!" McCoy is looming above him."Just a flower." Two unicorns prance behind McCoy’s back. One has Chekov’s face and the other Sulu’s. "Just a pretty flower."
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 107





	5 Terrible Things for Jim Kirk's Health (and 1 Very Very Good Thing)

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2009, presented with minimal edits, from my long defunct LiveJournal

1.Drinking

"Whooooooo!"

"Get down from there," McCoy growls and tugs Kirk down from the table he’s dancing on. "You’re a starship captain, not a sorority sister."

"Nooo funnn! You’re like the anti-party monster, here to eat all the fun and poop out facts."

"Yeah, I’m the anti-party monster, but you’re not going to be so cheerful tomorrow morning."

Alpha shift lights were set to dim every time the ship logged Captain James T. Kirk replicating alcohol.

"Why don’t you ever drink with me?" Jim finds his footing, clinging to McCoy’s shirtfront.

"Because, Jim." McCoy shoves him towards a chair away from the raging merriment. "I’m a man. I drink alone."

"Why?"

"So if I cry, no one can see me."

Kirk looks up at him, eyes wide in wonderment. "You’re so wise, Bones."

And then he vomited on McCoy’s shoes.

2.Smoking

"Just one?" He shoves the cigar in McCoy’s face.

"No."

"C’mon." Kirk slings an arm around his shoulder and gives him a shake. "It’s a celebration! We got a ship, we got a mission, we got all the booze and booty we could ever want, all reporting to yours truly."

"I’d rather drink a barrel of toxic waste." He breaks away from Jim and begins shoving hypo-cartridges forcefully into a rack. "It would have about the same effect."

Kirk smirks and rolls a cigar around between his lips, wagging it at his CMO. "They got that down the hall."

"Then go there." He spins Kirk around by the shoulders, pushes him towards the door.

"Not until you take one, measly, celebratory puff. That’s an order." He holds out a sleek silver lighter.

"You child," McCoy scoffs, rolling his eyes. He plucks the cigar from Jim’s lips and grabs the lighter. McCoy takes a long pull, almost sighing it in. Then he breathes it out slowly, sending a lazy jet of smoke into Kirk’s face. "There. You happy?"

Kirk gulps. "Um… Yeah."

3.Poor Nutrition

McCoy kicks his way into Kirk’s quarters, sending uniform pants, PADDs and Kwik-Noodle cups in all directions. Jim himself is draped miserably over his bed in his boxers.

"Oooh, Bones," he groans. "I feel like an elephant farted in my mouth."

"You _smell_ like an elephant farted in your mouth. Good God, man. What have you been eating."

"Uhh." Kirk rises to an elbow and rubs his face like it’ll massage the information back. "Kwik-Noodles, beer… and umm…something else."

"Cum?" McCoy offers helpfully, folding his arms as he sits on the end of the bed.

Jim snaps his fingers. "Yes. That."

"You’re malnourished. And dehydrated."

"How can you just say that? Don’t you have to _examine_ me?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Maybe if you showered. And paid me." McCoy slaps Kirk’s thigh and gets up. "Seeya at lunch."

"What happened to breakfast?" Kirk swings his legs over the side of the bed. God _damn_ does his head hurt.

"You slept through it." McCoy whooshes out the door. "I’ll have a salad waiting for you."

4.Unprotected Sex

"Drop your pants."

Kirk obliges.

"Aren’t you going to take me to dinner first?"

"Not if you’re going to keep screwing alien queens." McCoy snaps on a pair of blue latex gloves. "The drawers too." 

"Hey, that was an important cultural exchange." Kirk shoves down his boxers. Across sickbay, Nurse Chapel spits out her coffee and practically runs to the office. " Now, just tell me what’s wrong."

"Well, its purple." 

"I know, dude. And furry."

"Furry? Tribble furry or week old pudding furry."

"Week old pudding. Why are you standing all the way over there? Get over here and examine!"

"Jim, I don’t want to be near you’re little friend in the best of times. I certainly don’t want to be near it when its purple, week old pudding."

"Bones, I _order_ to examine my dick."

In the office, Chapel spits out her coffee again. She sets it aside and decides not to try and drink it again until the captain leaves sickbay.

"Fine." McCoy gets a surgical mask and a metal probe and advances on Kirk’s member like it's a time bomb strapped to a zombie shark. He lifts it gently with the probe, wincing slightly as he examines the underside. "Does that hurt?"

"No. But you don’t have to be so gentle. I like it a little rough."

"Then there’s nothing I can do." McCoy backs away and tosses the gloves and surgical mask in the biohazard incinerator. "Get some sleep, drink lots of fluids, and wash regularly. It’ll clear up in a week or two."

"No hypospray? No lecture? Just sleep, hydrate, and shower?"

"I know its pushing your regular limits of behavior, Jim, but do try."

"That’s it?"

McCoy walks into the medical office, closing the glass door behind him. He touches the comm button and smirks at Kirk on the other side. "And no sex."

"WHAT?!?"

5.Toxic Substances

Kirk’s head lolls back. He swears Bones wasn’t so rainbow-y when he left the ship.

Or half fish.

"Quick, Jim. Tell me what it was!" McCoy is looming above him; one hand on Kirk’s shoulder, the other jabbing furiously at the tricorder hung around his neck.

"Just a flower." Two unicorns prance behind McCoy’s back. One has Chekov’s face and the other Sulu’s. "Just a pretty flower."

"Alright, what did the pretty flower do?" McCoy’s mouth starts drifting towards his forehead. "Jim! Focus!"

"It went… _boop_." He starts laughing hysterically and rolls over on the bed.

McCoy turns to Chekov and Sulu. "What the hell happened down there?"

"Vell, ve vere just taking readings."

"And talking about how the helm reckoning system needed to be recalibrated."

"And zen, ze keptin said ve vere taking life too seriously and ve should take adwantage of being on avay team. He said ve had to..umm…umm…"

"Stop and smell the roses. And then he sniffed the flower." Sulu rubs the back of his neck. Chekov nods in agreement.

"And then what happened?" McCoy rubs his brow.

"It vent… _boop_ ," Chekov says, eyes widening in earnest.

" _Boop_?"

"It went _boop_ ," Sulu assures him. "And then this gold mist shot out all over his face."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," McCoy grumbles. He jabs a sedative hypospray into Kirk’s neck.

"Vhat?"

"Nothing," McCoy sighs. "He’ll be fine."

0\. Regular Exercise

Kirk falls back on the pillow.

"Jesus."

"He’s not here, Jim. Can I take a message." McCoy rolls over, reveling in the sticky, blissful sweatiness of the moment.

"I mean, _Jesus_." He turns towards McCoy, kicking the sheets so it covers them both. "I didn’t know--"

"I got honors in anatomy class."

"And that thing--?"

"Learned that in medical school, too."

"That. That was fucking _amazing_. Bones. We could have been doing this for _years_."

McCoy touches Jim’s chin and places a soft kiss on his nose. "I never put out on a first date."

"I need a cigarette."

"No cigarettes," McCoy growls. "And no more drinking binges. Or screwing three-breasted alien queens. Or sniffing toxic roses. Or subsisting on dry ramen and gin."

"Aww, Bones. That’s no fun. What can I have?"

McCoy lets his hand drift down his bedmate’s chest, running over the plains of his stomach muscles, coming to rest in the valley between his thighs. "Lots of regular exercise." 


End file.
